Blood Eagle: A riveting historical thriller Page 14

  23

  Hilda appeared from under a thick, dark green branch a little farther ahead. She walked over to the water edge and bent down and washed her hands. Then she came over to the fire and sat down by my side.

  “The water in that river feels colder than ice,” she mumbled half to herself, half to me. She turned to me. “What? Why are you looking at me like that for?

  I realized that I must be staring at her. I shook my head, “Sorry. It’s nothing. I was just thinking. Let’s eat and continue your story.”

  She nodded and grabbed her plate of food. When she looked at me, I told her where she had left it off.

  As soon as the burial ceremony was over, Katerina and her husband had left the Jarlabanke estate. But instead of going home, Katerina hid behind the trees just inside the woods with the cart, while her husband rode one of their horses with the other attached behind him as fast as he could back to their farm. There, he would pick up their two sons—Hilda nodded at Mikail, the hollow-faced man who sat next to her, and then at Fjodor, bald and hook-nosed, who sat opposite her. The three of them would return to the grave together. Normally, that trip would take an entire day. However, Katerina’s husband needed to make it home in less than half that time, and then return at the same speed with his sons in tow. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t have enough time to dig up Hilda before it was morning again.

  The three Russians made it back slightly after midnight. The horses’ legs gave out and they collapsed on the ground, the men still seated in the saddles, when Katerina spotted them. All the funeral guests had gone inside the main dwelling to attend the feast that was held there in Hilda’s memory. This meant that the Russian family could do what they had to do, undisturbed. They reached the ship quickly because the soil had yet to freeze.

  Thankfully, Hilda was alive still, though only barely, for upon them discovering her, her face had turned blue. Katerina and her husband carried Hilda to their wagon where they hid her under woolen blankets. Mikail and Fjodor covered up the grave and made it look as if nothing had been touched. By the time they were done and their horses had regained some strength, the sky had turned an ashy blue and all the stars were gone.

  Hilda paused to take a bite of the grilled hare leg that was on her plate. After having chewed it for a moment, she glanced at Fjodor, “This is delicious, Fjodor” she said. He blushed at the compliment. “Fjodor prepares the best hare,” she said to me.

  I nodded, as did Orvar, both our mouths full; the meat was really tender and juicy.

  “What happened after they put you in the wagon?” I asked after having swallowed.

  “They took me back to their farm and nursed me back to life. It took weeks before I felt normal again.”

  “Do you remember the ride back?” This time it was Orvar who had asked. Hilda glanced at him, a bit surprised. It was the first thing he had said after I introduced him. She shook her head so forcefully her abundant locks skipped. “The first thing I remember since the night in the barn was a morning after I had been with Katerina and her family for over a week. She was feeding me some strange, ill-tasting concoction that she assured me would make me recover quicker.”

  “What about the evening of your father’s birthday?” I asked. “Do you remember that you and I went out to the barn, and that we sat down because I was too drunk?”

  Hilda’s face became dark and hard. She stared into the fire for some time. “I remember everything that happened that evening,” she said finally. “Every little moment—until the very end.” She looked at me, her eyes so dark and grave I felt a shiver run through my body. “I remember you and me going out to the barn to look at Ragnar’s birthday gift, and that you got so drunk I had to make you sit down. We didn’t sit there for long until Ragnar suddenly appeared out of the darkness—I remember that I thought I heard someone walking inside the barn as we were sitting there. When Ragnar came toward us, I knew that I hadn’t imagined it. I don’t think you ever noticed him. I was so surprised to see him that I found myself at a loss for words. Then he moved behind you and smacked you hard in the back of your head with a piece of wood. You fell like a tree to the ground. It all happened so fast.” She tsk-tsked, then continued.

  “I was so stunned that I lost my breath. Suddenly, he was in front of me and put his hands around my neck. Strangely enough, it wasn’t until he began to squeeze hard that I understood what his intention was. I tried to fight back, but he was too strong. Very soon I felt how I got weaker. I got dizzy and I lost focus. I remember thinking, why, why are you doing this, Ragnar? What did I do to make you so angry with me, so angry that you have to kill me? And then I saw that tears were coming out of those small blue eyes, so close to my own. They fell down on my face—on my cheeks, on my lips, in my eyes. He began to speak, or mumble rather, ‘I’m sorry, Hilda. I’m so, so sorry. It is not your fault, any of it. But I cannot help it; I have to do it. I have to have her. Please forgive me, sister.’ It was somewhere around that time that everything turned black for me.”

  I looked at her and nodded. “We are so lucky that your father wanted to mark your grave with a stone monument instead of with a mound,” I said in a glum tone. “And that the stones hadn’t arrived yet. It would have been almost impossible to get down to you otherwise.”

  “Yes, I know,” Hilda said, smiling bitter-sweetly.

  “I wonder how come he had you buried so fast though. From what I understand they buried you only two or three days after the feast. Ten days is more typical.”

  “I think it was because Ragnar had convinced Father that I had to be buried as soon as possible. Katerina is certain that must be why, judging from how he acted toward her in the barn.”

  “You must be right.”

  Hilda ate the last couple of bites of her hare leg. She chewed them carefully and swallowed. Then she had a sip of the water we had brought from a gurgling creek nearby. When she was done, she wiped her mouth with a piece of cloth as daintily as if she sat at the table in the Jarlabanke estate. The sight cracked me up.

  “What’s so funny?” Hilda asked and looked at me.

  “You.” I smiled at her. That pleasant feeling from earlier filled me again, and I found myself not able to stop looking at her.

  “What?” Hilda said. “Do I have food all over my face or what?” She fondled the area around her mouth. I could feel my smile widen.

  Looking distraught, Hilda said, “You are staring at me, Leif. What is wrong?”

  “Don’t worry, you look fine,” I said and patted her on the shoulder. “How long did it take before you found out why Ragnar tried to kill you? Did you hear anything about the trial?”

  “Yes, but only afterwards, about a week or so after you had become a forest man. Katerina and her family kept me well informed because, as I got better, I wanted to know what was going on with me and why I was in their house. When I found out that you had been charged with my murder, we all understood that Ragnar wanted to get rid of you for some reason, and that that must be why he had tried to kill me. But none of us could figure out for what reason. It was only much later that I remembered that he had in fact said, ‘I have to have her,’ which might have helped. Anyway, I didn’t think that anybody else in my family was involved—or, at least I hoped not—but, of course, I couldn’t be completely sure of this. For a while, thoughts of how my entire family wanted to see me dead haunted me, and maybe Ragnar had only been the person executing the deed. It wasn’t until we heard that Ragnar and Thora had gotten married that everything finally made sense. I had always suspected that Ragnar was quite taken with your wife. But not even in my wildest dreams did I ever suspect he was that taken.”

  “She is not my wife anymore,” I said automatically, a mix of desolation and anguish spreading within me.

  “No, that is true. She is Ragnar’s wife now.” Hilda put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry about all of this, Leif. Truly, I am.”

  “Don’t be. I should be sorry for you ending up in the middle
of this madness. And the one that should be really sorry is Ragnar.” I clenched my teeth. “But when it comes to Thora and me, don’t be sorry. I will soon have forgotten about her. I know now that she is not a girl worth remembering.”

  Hilda looked at me with eyes that didn’t seem to quite believe what I had just said. But I myself knew in that instant that what I had said was the truth: Thora was not worth remembering, and I would truly forget all about her one day.

  24

  I woke up much later that night when a bug bit my head. Slapping hard at the annoying little creature—which felt surprisingly big—I flew up into a sitting position.

  “Aooch!” Nils yelled, doing his best to muffle the sound with his hand. Feeling groggy, I peered at the white-haired, boyish-looking man as he rubbed the top of his hurt hand. Oh, so it wasn’t a bug but Nils—the third of Hilda’s companions and a friend of the Russian brothers—who must have done something to my head.

  “What did you do?” I asked, not feeling particularly sorry for Nils. Whatever he had done to my head, it had not been a pleasant way to wake up.

  “I just tugged at your hair a little because you didn’t want to wake up,” he whined. “I tried pushing you first, but you wouldn’t have any of it.”

  “Oh. I thought you were some kind of bug biting me,” I said and shook my head to wake myself. “So it’s my time now, huh? Well, sleep well then, Nils.” It seemed that Nils was asleep even before his head hit the ground.

  Everyone but Hilda took turns watching the campsite so that the others could sleep undisturbed. First it had been Mikail’s turn, then Nils’s and now it was mine. I yawned big and rubbed my eyes to get the last bit of sleep out of them. Looking at the position of the moon, I knew that I hadn’t slept for long. Nils had probably not been able to resist ending his guarding session early… Well, not that I minded much. I had a lot to ponder.

  My eyes searched out Hilda, who slept on layers of goatskin under a thick bear fur right beside me. The sight of her white face into which locks of ashy blond hair had crawled filled me with a joy so strong it scared me. Could I really be that happy still that she was alive and back in my life? I shook my head. It didn’t make any sense at all.

  We had resolved that Hilda should return to Karlsby with her crew exactly like she had planned to do it before she ran into me and Orvar in the woods. Having waited for the winter to end, just like I had done, she and her three travel companions had set her ship in water and headed in the direction of the Jarlabanke estate. When they reached it, she would send one of her companions for her father. The messenger would tell Bjorn that Hilda was alive and that she wanted to meet and talk to him alone. If all went according to plan, Hilda and Bjorn would have a secret meeting outside the estate a short while after her man came back. When she had heard what her father wanted to do, she and he would determine what the next step should be. Now, of course, I would be part of this decision.

  All of us would leave for Karlsby early the following morning so that, if proven necessary, we wouldn’t have to wait for long to take the matter to the People’s Assembly. The next gathering was scheduled to take place only a week from today.

  It wasn’t even noon when our vessel reached the outskirts of the forest that grew along the eastern edge of Karlsby. Now that we were so close to the Jarlabanke estate, we broke down the attention-grabbing sail and used oars to complete the rest of the journey. Then we cast anchor and everybody but Mikail and Fjodor left the ship; the two Russian brothers would guard the ship and our belongings against intruders. Later, when Hilda had spoken to her father and we knew that we were safe, we would come back to get Mikail and Fjodor and take them to my family’s farm. It was situated less than a quarter-day ride away.

  Hilda, Orvar, Nils, and I made a short stop with my family first since our farm appeared before the Jarlabanke estate to notify them about the unexpected turn of events. We also needed to pick up a couple of horses. When Egin finally understood that Hilda wasn’t a ghost but instead the answer to our misery, he informed us that only one good horse and a colt were available. The other grown one was too sick and exhausted to go anywhere. We decided that Hilda and I would ride together on the horse, while Nils, who was much smaller than Orvar, would take the colt. Orvar would have to wait for us at our farm. It wasn’t like we needed him to come with us.

  It was long past midday when the three of us reached the Jarlabanke estate. We made sure the tall firs in the woods kept us well hidden from all human eyes, but that we also got a clear view of the main entrance and the fence that enclosed the large estate. Then we descended our horses. Handing me the reins, Hilda turned to Nils and put her hands on his shoulders. He was just slightly taller than she was and not much wider. She looked at him with a serious expression on her face.

  “Are you absolutely certain you know what you are about to do now?” she asked.

  He smirked and said, “Yes, Miss Hilda, I’m very certain. I think you have told me about ten times already. I’m not stupid.”

  She nodded apologetically. “Please forgive me, Nils. I’m afraid that I’m rather anxious. I’m not used to these kinds of matters.”

  “That is quite all right, Miss.” The words didn’t match the faint sneer on his face.

  I gave the short, slightly built man a look, not liking the tone of his voice. I had come to notice that Nils was one of those people who fancied themselves more knowledgeable and more important than they were. I found him annoying, and the feather-light, white-blond curls that grew with abundance on his head, making him look like an innocent child, particularly irritated me. When Hilda had told me that Nils was going to be the one to deliver our message to Bjorn, I had protested, claiming it was a bad decision. Unfortunately, I couldn’t give her a single reason as to why I thought so. I just did. Hilda, on the other hand, could come up with three great reasons as to why Nils was the best messenger: he didn’t have a Russian accent like Mikail and Fjodor that could create suspicions; he was older and more experienced than the Russian brothers in case something unforeseen should happen, and he had a much friendlier face. So he would go.

  “Go then,” Hilda said, letting go of the man in front of her. He nodded, turned around, and took off. Leaving the forest, he walked with determined steps across the wide, grass-covered plain toward the entrance of the great estate. Its fences began about 200 steps from where Hilda and I were hiding. We watched him as he decreased in size and eventually disappeared through the main entrance, barely stopping to identify himself to the sentinels who always stood there.

  Hilda glanced at me and gave her upper arms a quick rub with her hands.

  “By Thor, I’m so nervous,” she said. Her eyes moved toward the estate again. “Well, when I get to speak to Father, I’m sure that I will feel much better. I have missed him so. He always knows what is best.”

  I nodded in response. I wasn’t going to say anything about how I too felt incredibly nervous, for I was suddenly even more convinced that having sent Nils was a bad, bad decision. But bringing it up would just make Hilda feel worse, and it was too late to make any changes now anyway. All I could do was pray that my imagination was playing games with me.

  When Nils returned a while later and nothing had happened, I let out a small sigh of relief. For a few terrifying moments, I had feared that the little man with the innocent face would notify Ragnar and Loke instead of Bjorn, and that the two of them would come charging out of the estate on horses with swords to come get me and Hilda. I was glad it had turned out that I was wrong about Nils.

  “What happened, Nils?” Hilda demanded as soon as Nils was safely behind the shielding branches of the firs. “Did you get a hold of Father?”

  He held up a hand to calm the eager Hilda. “Yes, I did speak to your father. He will come out here soon to speak to you.”

  Hilda smiled big. “Oh, that is marvelous! How did you find him?”

  “Right as I got inside, I saw a man coming out of the main dwelling. He spotted
me and came up and asked me who I was and what I wanted. I told him I was a messenger, an important messenger for someone, and that I had to speak to Bjorn Jarlabanke. Shortly after, Bjorn came to me. I told him that you were waiting to speak to him beneath the two great oaks on the west side of the estate, the ones right next to the woods. And then I gave him the wood plate with your signs, so that he would know that I was telling him the truth. He said he’d be there long before sunset.”

  “Did he seem happy to hear that I was alive after all?”

  “Oh, yes! More than happy.” Nils grinned wide.

  Hilda seemed to expect a more thorough description of how glad her father had become because she kept looking at Nils, smiling all the while. When nothing came, she cleared her throat and said, “Well… that is marvelous.” She gave the slight man a kiss on his hairless cheek. “Thank you for doing this. Now all we have to do is wait for Father to come out here.”

  “Who was the man you spoke to?” I asked, a bout of suspicion filling me again. “You did ask him for his name, I presume?”

  Nils gave me a confident look. “Yes, I did ask for his name, Master. It was Loke I spoke to.”

  I ignored Nils’s mockery and continued, “I hope you didn’t tell Loke that Hilda is alive and waiting out here to speak to her father.”

  “Of course not! What do you think I am? Some kind of fool? I didn’t tell Loke anything of importance. He doesn’t know who wants to speak to his father, just that someone does. And he was in a hurry anyway, so he just disappeared as soon as he had brought Bjorn to me. He didn’t think twice about it.”

  Hilda gave me a look full of reproach. “What is wrong with you, Leif? Why are you questioning Nils like that when he just performed such a courageous deed?”

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, feeling sincerely sorry. “I guess I’m just as on edge as you said you were.” I turned to Nils, “Forgive me, Nils. I didn’t mean to insult your judgment.”